The Weight Beneath Skin

Breath caught tight beneath my ribs,

a hollow drum that barely lives.

In the dark, my chest heaves slow,

a silent knock, a muffled blow.

Cotton sheets press uneven lines,

where bone and breath refuse to align.

Each rise and fall a fragile fight,

a weight that pulls beneath the night.

The ache settles, slow and deep,

a quiet secret I can’t keep.

Under skin, beneath the hum,

a tethered breath that won’t succumb.